Trusting You
by Championship Vinyl
Summary: Three years after the film, an old friend of Dimitri's returns to throw a wrench into his future. Will he take it sitting down? Not likely. Tee hee hee. Read and Review, pplleeaassee! This is one of my favorites, so make it one of yours
1. Second Chances

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**Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, yeah, I don't own anybody but Leonitka Seydinov. This one puts Dimitri to the test when a figure from his past gets involved in his future. One of my personal favorites. You will recognize the character from "Journey to a Different Past", if you've been reading. Takes place maybe three years after the movie. R & R & enjoy!**

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Four o'clock on a grey St. Petersburg afternoon, the local pub was more than making its daily share off its regulars. It was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone, by name, life story, and drink of choice.

So, naturally, it came as no surprise when, as the door swung open, the pub's inhabitants swiveled around on their stools to get a good look at the latest entry.

For just a moment, the room fell into silence. The man in the doorway walked toward the bar, and tossed a shock of hair out of his eyes. No one had expected him to come back here. No one.

He'd been a regular, of course---just like them---a long, long time ago. There'd been talk of where he'd been; what he'd done, what he'd lost and what he'd gained. Not a one of the rumors could be confirmed within that pub---'Vlad's boy' had simply faded into the folklore. And yet, here he stood, confirming little but the fact that he had changed.

The room buzzed back to life. All, that is, except for one man. He kept his gaze on the familiar newcomer. Finally, he stood from the barstool.

"Dimitri."

The newcomer stepped forward from out of the shadows. "Leonitka Seydinov. I _thought_ I had the right place, should've known by the vodka cart..."

Seydinov winced. "Aah, full surnames; are we so old?"

"Maybe _one_ of us is," Dimitri joked, pulling up the stool beside him as the two men sat. "How are you, Leo?"

"My glass is full, and business is good; the _better_ question is, how are _you_?" Seydinov took a swallow of his vodka sour. "We've heard some pretty wild yarns about you, my boy."

"Yeah, well." Dimitri averted his glance from Seydinov's. "I haven't much stayed in Petersburg lately. You know me."

"I'd certainly like to _think_ I do."

Dimitri sighed. "I won't get into this here, Leo. We've both done things we'll regret. _I_ grew up, _I_ moved on. And what about _you_? Still keeping an eye on the capital for Germany?"

"Of _course_ not, Dimitri, I've learned the hard way just as much as you. I haven't spoken to Germany in four years, haven't stolen a peach, haven't counterfeited a kopek, a ruble, a dollar, a pound, a frank, a lira---will that be all, or do you want a resumè?"

Dimitri took a long drink from the glass that had been placed in front of him. "I want to beleive you."

"Then do, because I couldn't be more legit if I were the king of Spain."

"In that case, I need to call in on a favor." He paused to let the following sink in. "I need to be able to trust you on this."

Leo plunked his empty glass onto the counter. "Absolutely."

"My wife and I need a way to get to France by Saturday. We'll need your ship."

"The Valkyrie? _My_ baby?"

"She's the fastest heap of tin from here to Asia."

"I'll be at the helm...it's a package deal...."

"That's fine."

"It's no problem at all."

"Excellent."

"On one condition."

Dimitri bristled immediately. Conditions were never good for him. "What?"

Leo eyed him suspiciously. "Tell me the truth; subside the rumors. This wife of yours...."

Dimitri hesitated. He wasn't even a hundred percent sure of Seydinov's loyalties, and yet he had to live up to his end of the bargain. "Is Anastasia Romanov," he finished. "Noon tomorrow at the pier?"

"Okay," Leo replied definitively.

"Okay," Dimitri echoed, and he chose to beleive it. He got up from the barstool and exited the pub the way he came.


	2. Impressions Are Everything

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"So this is the famous Valkyrie." Anya looked up at the modest ship, the straw brim of her hat giving way to her Romanov-blue eyes.

"Yep. She's not much to look at, but she'll get you from A to B in record time."

Anya turned to him with a skeptical look on her face, and a strand of her fiery hair whipped across her cheek.

"She will!"

Anya raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

"She will. Just---just come on," Dimitri insisted, and led Anya by the hand toward the gangplank.

"Ahoy, comerades!" came a voice from on deck. Leo didn't hesitate to thunder down the gangplank to welcome his cargo. Dimitri relaxed a little---so far, Seydinov was true to his word.

"Dimitri! Long time no see," he crowed.

"Thanks for the lift, Leo."

"The lift? _Please_, thanks for getting the feds off my back in '23. Now we're even." Leo then turned his attention to Anya, and took her hand. "And this must be the ravishing Grand Duchess Anastasia," he said, and bowed.

"Oh, no---you don't have to..." Anya began, but Leo was already up. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Leo," she supplied instead. "Dimitri's told me nothing good about you." Dimitri elbowed her in the ribs, and she realized her mistake. "Nothing _but_ good about you," she corrected quickly. Thankfully, Leo was oblivious to all this.

"Wonderful! Now, would Her Highness like to see her cabin?" Seydinov offered.

Anya started to speak, but Dimitri's voice answered instead. "I'm sure Her Highness would." Anya shot him a look, which he ignored.

"Right this way, honored guests," Leo said, and the two of them followed him onto the deck.


	3. No Turning Back

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"I still don't like him." Anya turned away from the mirror in her cabin, hands on her hips, and faced Dimitri. "I can't help it. He just...I don't know. I just don't like him. It's like something's...not right." She couldn't seem to grasp the right words.

Anya went back to brushing her hair, and Dimitri came up behind her. "I _know_ you don't," he agreed, "and frankly, he's not _my_ favorite person in the world _either_, but it's the best we could do. By this time tomorrow, we'll be in France, and this'll all just be another bad holiday anecdote. Okay?"

Anya sighed, and rolled her eyes. "Okay."

"Okay? Really?"

"Yes. I trust you." She cast a glance at the rafters overhead that separated them from Leo. "_Him_, not so much, but _you_...."

Dimitri turned off the light and followed Anya out of the washroom. "_Thank_ you."

She kissed him goodnight and climbed into her impossibly tiny bunk, while Dimitri climbed his impossibly tiny ladder to do the same.


	4. Stormy Seas

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Dimitri opened his eyes to a room almost as black as the inside of his eyelids---he almost couldn't tell the difference. Hours had gone by---it had to be three? Maybe four in the morning?

It was just his luck, this sudden onset of insomnia. He chalked it up to the ship's turbulence due to the storm outside. An active sea, apparently, was no place to sleep.

He decided to check on Anya---after all, if _he_ was awake, there was no _way she_ could be asleep in this.

Dimitri pulled himself forward and peered down into the bunk below him.

It was empty.

Immediately Dimitri jumped down to the floor. Anya was nowhere to be found. He threw the door open and ran up the stairs to the deck, two at a time.

He was hit by a wave before he could even turn around, the boat swaying and dipping beneath him. There was a boom of thunder; to the east, a flash of lightning.

"_Anya!_" Dimitri called, and he whipped his head around hoping to spot her on the deck. Instead, he came face to face with Leonitka Seydinov.

"Don't worry, she's unharmed. In _my_ position I really couldn't _afford_ for her to be..."

Dimitri didn't let him finish. "_Where is she?_" he roared.

"Oh, she's just 'hanging out,'" Seydinov said, nodding toward the upper deck. Sure enough, Anya was there, tied with a cocoon of rope to the forward mast. A torn strip of cloth had been tied around her mouth, suffocating back her wind-blown hair, and she was wildly trying to free herself.

"But," Seydinov began, regaining Dimitri's attention in addition to his rage, "I really don't think you're in any position to _concern_ yourself with that. You see," he chuckled, "We're about two miles off the French and German coastline, and---oh, you'll _really_ love _this_ one---guess which side we'll be landing on?"

"_I never should have trusted you!_"

"Yeah, well, that's always been your little _problem_, Dimitri." Seydinov reached forward and grabbed Dimitri by the collar. "You know, I was always a little _fuzzy_ on these kinds of things. Proper protocol says I really should have thrown you overboard first, but I kind of wanted you to _see_ this," Seydinov said, and he forced Dimitri to face Anya trapped on the deck above. "The money's a lot sweeter if it's personal."

Dimitri'd had it. He wanted to smash every bone in Seydinov's pathetic, two-timing body. But, before he could do so much as raise a hand, Seydinov threw him to the ground. He struggled to lift himself from the rain-soaked planks of the deck.

"Aw, making an honest try for it?" Seydinov cooed. "Well, _that'll_ never do." He delivered Dimitri a swift kick in the ribs before he could stand, and he dropped back to the deck. Above them, Anya gasped, trying only harder to escape.

"You can't win here, Dimitri. Maybe anywhere else in your life, but not here," Seydinov proclaimed as he stood over him.

Dimitri, just loud enough to be heard, uttered just one defiant reply.

"Wanna bet?"

As suddenly as a bolt of the lightning overhead, Dimitri in that second lunged for Seydinov's knees and sent him crashing to the deck. Seydinov grabbed for him, but Dimitri was too quick, and rolled away.

Just as he was standing up, Dimitri noticed a roaring, barrelling twenty-foot wall of water rising up over the Valkyrie. Seydinov regained his bearings and charged toward him, but Dimitri merely grabbed on to a railing and steeled himself for the blow.

The icy water crashed down over the ship as if from a massive bucket, swirling and frothing over the deck before retreating back to the sea. When the boat had steadied somewhat, Dimitri looked up. Seydinov had vanished, apparently a toll claimed by the violent tide.

He released the railing and immediately began climbing the ladder to the upper deck, pulling himself over the guardrail and running for the mast. He came to a halt in front of Anya, and untied the strip of cloth from around her jaw. "Are you all right?" he gasped.

She coughed. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine."

Dimitri put his arms around her shoulders and she rested her head against him. Everything did finally seem all right---even the storm seemed to be quieting down.

"Come on," he said after a moment. He went around back of the mast and searched for the knot in the coil of rope. "Let's get you out of this---"

Out of nowhere, a very alive and very angry Leonitka Seydinov leapt on Dimitri and tackled him to the ground, cutting him off, in addition to knocking the wind out of him.

"Dimitri!" Anya watched, horrified, and strained to break the ropes that still confined her.

The two of them dropped again to the lower deck, struggling to stand, each of them raining blows on the other.

Seydinov managed to free himself and pulled away a moment, and too late Dimitri realized that he'd retrieved a three-foot lead pipe from the deck. Just as Dimitri stood, Seydinov swung.

_Bam!_ Dimitri dropped to the ground. The searing pain claimed first his leg, then his mind and his subconscious until everything around him began to fade in and out of black.

"_Dimitri!_"

Faintly, he registered Anya's voice calling his name, and he managed to stay conscious. He also faintly registered Leo standing in front of him, the steel pipe raising in slow motion over his head.

_She's counting on you_, he told himself silently. _You owe it to her to fix this. You have to._

Leo was poised for the blow.

Luckily for Dimitri, he also had his back to the railing.

"We were never even, Dimitri," he said by way of 'last words'.

"You're right." Using every last bit of his strength, Dimitri stood up on his right leg with astonishing force and ripped the pipe from Leo's hand. "_I owe you one_."

With that, he punched Seydinov in the face, sending him tumbling over the railing and into the angry sea below, once and for all.

His energy spent, Dimitri collapsed to the deck, unable to stand any longer. At precisely that moment, Anya wriggled free of the last length of rope after what seemed like a helpless eternity. She ran down half the length of the ship and dropped to her knees beside him, and the last sight he remembered was that of the coast of France, growing in the distance.


	5. The Best Of The Worst Place To Be

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**From here, it goes from Dimitri/Leo to Dimitri/Anya, and later on we see a little bit of Anya's POV, so it changes pace a bit. (Also remember that injuries were more of a cause for concern back then--people croaked from headcolds, for crying out loud.) And I do own character Dr. Jaques Pierre. Keep reading!**

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A bright, white light was the first thing in Dimitri's field of vision when he awoke. A bright, white light in an unfamiliar white room.

_Well_, he thought, _At least I know I can't possibly be dead_.

"You're up," observed an angelically familiar voice to his left. He turned his head. Anya had stationed herself in a chair next to his bed. Or, he noticed as he tried uncomfortably to shift himself, the sterile slab of concrete they _employ_ as a bed. He gathered that he must be in a hospital.

"Hey hey hey hey hey! Don't move. They haven't got the cast on you yet," Anya scolded. The bolt of pain in his leg agreed with her, and he eased himself back down.

"God, tell me I didn't black out," he groaned.

"You didn't."

"Yeah, yeah. Do me a favor. Lie better." She smiled, and he took a second to consider something she'd said a second ago. "So. Cast, huh?"

"Your leg was broken in two places," she confirmed. "They tried to give you Dr. Marcel, but he couldn't diagnose a cat, much less a person, so I did a little haggling and got you Dr. Pierre. He ran the X-rays about an hour ago. How are you feeling?"

Dimitri sighed. "Uh, really, really stupid."

"Why?"

He considered what he was going to say. "Because," he began. "You were right. I was wrong, and you were right. Again."

"Dimitri...."

"I'm sorry I ever trusted that..." he stopped himself. "I just, I should've _known_ better. To put you in danger like that..."

"Was nothing to do with you," she finished for him. "You trusted a friend. You did _nothing_ wrong, and you have _nothing_ to feel guilty about. If anything, you're hurt because of me."

"Can we _not_ play the 'who screwed up worse' game, please?"

"You know what I mean, Dimitri. What you did for me back there was....Thank you," Anya finished, knowing there was nothing else to say.

Dimitri just smiled, and he could tell his medications were beginning to kick in, so he cut right to the chase, suddenly very, very tired. "I love you."

Okay, so there was _something_ left to say. Anya smiled. "Yeah. I could kind of tell." She pondered a second, then added, "If not after the issue in Copenhagen, then after the psycho-sailor, definitely."

"You've been hanging out with Sarcasm again, haven't you?"

The door opened just then, and a tall, white-coated man with a halo of grey hair stepped into the room. "Bonsoir, monsieur; ton voltre altesse. Ètre je interrompre quelque chose?"

"The doctor! Good." Anya stood up and shook the man's hand. "No, docteur Pierre. Nous ètre reconnaissant de ton temps. Parles vous Russe ou Anglais, par de hasard?"

"Oui, oui, certainly. Would you like to discuss the prescriptions?"

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa_, _prescriptions_?" Dimitri sat up, not so tired all of a sudden.

Anya waved him off. "Just standard painkillers, now go to sleep."

"Fine, but..."

"Sleep. _Now_," she continued, "You mentioned a wheelchair, doctor?"

But the doctor wasn't the one who answered. "_What_?"

"Dimitri, sleep."

"I _do not_ need a wheelchair."

"You plan on flying? Because you're staying off that leg."

"I will be _walking_," he insisted.

"But---"

"_Walking_."

"Sleep."

"Mom!"

"How about we will discuss this later, yes?" the doctor cut in. "All we really need at the moment is to go over the prognosis based on his medical records."

"Fine with me," Dimitri huffed.

"It _should_ be, now---"

"If you say 'sleep' one more time...!"

"You need---"

"Don't say it!"

"I will get the physical therapist back in here if I have to."

"Pardon, your highness, I really must go. There are several patients in my care this evening---would you like for me to return in a few hours?" the doctor interjected. "I will have the full results by then, also, I assure you."

"Yes, Dr. Pierre, thank you," Anya said. Before she followed him out the door, she walked over to Dimitri and took his hand. "You protect me," she said quietly. "Let me protect _you_ a little."

He knew by the look on her face that she really meant it. He smiled a little. "All right," he surrendered.

"Good," she answered, satisfied. She released his hand and started toward the door. Halfway through the frame, she turned around. "Now get some sleep."

He sighed, and dropped his head back onto the ridiculously stiff pillow. She _just had_ to win.


	6. Now And Then

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**This chapter starts with a flashback sequence from Anya's POV, and yes, I take a slight liberty in assuming they were friends as kids. (How else would he have known about the wall?) Oh, and there is a slight Gilmore Girls Rogan-inspired dialogue in the previous chap., so I should mention that I don't own them, either. (Now NO ONE can sue me!) Reads.**

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_"Careful. If anyone sees us, they'll tell Papa." Anastasia shook her red curls out across her back and reached for another branch._

_"Don't worry," Dimitri called from below her. "No one will see us. I've been climbing trees since I was five."_

_The two of them reached the top branch, overlooking all of Tsarskoe Selo, and sat down. Anastasia widened her youthful cerulean eyes. "Really?" Clearly, she was impressed with his five years' worth of experience, in the way only a child could truly be. "Did you ever fall?"_

_"Nope," Dimitri bragged, puffing up to his full height of four and three-quarter feet. "I never get hurt."_

Anya shook the memory from her head, still as clear as a scene from a film. She probably wouldn't have admitted it, but she still liked to think of Dimitri as that little boy. He was supposed to be invincible. To _her_, he always was.

Looking at him just half an hour ago in that room was proof that he certainly wasn't invincible, and he certainly wasn't that little boy anymore; at least in most ways. The shadow along his jaw and upper lip proved that he hadn't shaved in two days, and the new cast that surrounded his entire leg served as a constant reminder that, in protecting her, he'd turned his ten-year-old self into a liar.

Anya had sat with him until he fell asleep, tiptoeing out once the coast was clear. For _her_, sleep was out of the question. Now in the hallway just outside his door, she stood against the wall, staring into a cup of black tea a nurse had brought her. She hadn't touched it, and she thought distantly as her eyelids fluttered that maybe black _coffee_ might have been better.

Finally, she spotted Dr. Pierre striding down the hall in her direction, a clipboard tucked under one arm. Anya stepped out from the wall.

"Ah! Mademoiselle. Bon." He pulled out the clipboard and began flipping through the pages attached to it.

"Do you have all the results?" she asked anxiously.

"Oui, I do." The doctor pulled a pair of spectacles from the pocket of his white coat and hooked them over his ears. "It looks as though all of the additional tests came back very well. We found no evidence of any further injury whatsoever, aside from minor bruising no doubt sustained from...well, _whatever_ it is that broke his leg in the first place."

_You have no idea_, Anya thought to herself. Her relief grew by the second, and she hung on the doctor's every word.

"Basically," Dr. Pierre summarized, "he's young, he's strong, and I see no reason for him _not_ to make a full recovery." The doctor grinned like Santa Clause on Christmas morning, as though he'd just delivered a new bike to a happy child.

Anya, all though monumentally relieved, wasn't entirely sure she'd heard correctly. She had worked herself up here, and it was going to take some convincing to get her down. "Full recovery, really?" she stammered. "As in, he's going to recover, fully?"

"He is going to recover. Fully." But the voice came from behind her, and not from the doctor. It was one part mocking, one part reassuring, and two parts _turn around_.

Anya instantly turned both her _self_ and her _attention_ from Dr. Pierre to the voice behind her, thrilled because she already knew who it belonged to. Dimitri stood there on his own, without assistance, propped against the crutches he'd rolled his eyes at the sight of not two hours ago.

"Oh, my _God!_ _Look_ at you!" she squealed.

"You proud of your boy?" he grinned.

"Unbelievably!" She threw her arms around his neck, careful not to knock him over. He laughed at her enthusiasm, if only for a second.

Dr. Pierre cleared his throat, _decades_ beyond trying to understand young people. Anya turned back around, her arm still draped across Dimitri's shoulders, the sparkling grin still plastered on her face.

"Wonderful to see that you are feeling up to walking, monsieur," he said with a gentlemanly nod, the French accent the only thing separating him from an English dignitary.

"You didn't tell her anything, didja Jaquès?"

"I'm afraid her higness proved too persuasive to refuse," the doctor chuckled.

Anya shot Dimitri an amused, mock-insulted look. "You _bribed_ him to keep your information from me?"

"I didn't want you freaking out. See, look how it's working," he deadpanned.

"_Well_ then," Dr. Pierre pronounced, flipping through the charts one more time. "You're feeling some improvement?"

"Been worse, Jaquès."

"If that's the case," and here he snapped shut the stack of papers with a physicianly smile, "then I see no trouble in discharging you by this evening."

Anya beamed at Dimitri, and Dr. Pierre gave a little bow, said, "I'll leave the two of you to your privacy," and strode away down the hall.

Once he was out of sight, Dimitri nodded toward the door to the room. "Come on."

Anya followed him in, shutting the door after them. Halfway through the room, he turned around, and locked his gaze onto hers. "That conversation I caught the end of....Were you really that....You know everything's fine, right? You're okay?"

She hadn't expected him to notice her panicked tone out there. _Guess again, Anya_. She sighed---he was right, he _was_ okay, and it was time to tell him the truth. "I was terrified. I was so worried about you. On the ship....I didn't even care what happened to me anymore." She looked down at the floor, then back into his eyes. "I didn't know if you were going to be okay."

He smiled, just a little. "C'mere." Anya stepped over to him, and put her hands on his shoulders, and he brushed her hair back with one hand. "I," he promised, "will _always_, be okay."

She loved that he'd said that, and more importantly, she loved that he'd meant it. She couldn't stop herself anymore, and she kissed him, for as long as she possibly could.


	7. It's Just Too Complicated

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**This isn't long--it's just the capper to everything else. It needed a shot of humor at the end. (Please review! Something! Anything!) **

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It didn't take long to pack up their belongings from the room---they hadn't had much on the ship with them to begin with. Anya cast one last look around the orderly space.

"Wow. I might actually miss it," she joked.

"Yeah, the only thing _I_ miss is a razor. Let's get outta here."

Before they could make their exit, their newly familiar physician poked his mostly-bald head through the door. "All ready?"

"Yeah," Dimitri answered. "Thanks for everything, Jaquès."

"Before you go, there _is_ one thing I would like to ask...."

Anya looked up at him from the suitcase. "What is it?"

"Just for the medical report---how exactly is it you were injured?"

Anya looked at Dimitri. Dimitri looked at Anya.

"Car accident," they both said, at exactly the same time.


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